


Past Reflections

by klutzy34



Series: The Mirror Verse [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Mob, First Meetings, First Time, Language, M/M, Mercenary Steve, Mob Boss Danny, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-11 06:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5617516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klutzy34/pseuds/klutzy34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of <i>Mirror Image</i>, Williams ends up the guest of Special Agent Doris McGarrett after his arrest. In an effort to better understand her mercenary son, she convinces Williams to tell her how he and McGarrett first met and became the partners they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As it turned out, I wasn't quite ready to let the Mirror Verse go yet and a possible one shot turned into a longer story. This one focuses entirely on the dark universe itself, where the Five-0 we know and love have always been unlawful.

The chain bolted to the metal tabletop didn’t give much wiggle room, leaving Williams to stare blankly at the wall in front of him. He lost track of how long since they marched him out of the back of a van and into the building, long hallways and blank walls stretching out before him. They moved through the labyrinth until reaching a door just as nondescript as the rest of the building, his guard detail forcing him into the room and down at the table, tightly cuffing his wrist. Then, without another word, they disappeared and left him the gray, windowless room, no one way mirror, no camera in the corner. Just silence, dim light, and an empty chair sitting in front of him.

It gave his mind a moment to catch up to the night’s events. Hell, the entire week’s. An alternate reality where he played the role of cop, fighting the good fight. Where McGarrett, still deadly, also resembled a giant puppy dog in demeanor and Chin Ho Kelly, while also still deadly, embodied zen more than those stupid yoga videos Rachel insisted on doing in his living room. Where bad was the only ass that Kono Kalakaua would kick. A few hours after his arrival back, his mind began to formulate excuses as to why it never happened while rational thought remained insistent. 

After half an hour passed (he assumed), he started to work on his defense. Someone would come through that door soon, armed with information or an intent to get information from him, and he needed to be ready to play the game. Staring at the tabletop, he clasped his hands in front of him, thumbs twiddling nervously. He softened his expression, chewing his lip, brow furrowed in an approximation of worry and fear. Breath came in slowly, shuddered on the way out. His shoulders hunched slightly, trying to make him appear smaller. All in all, an excellent attempt at a good man with no idea why he would be arrested. 

The nondescript door swung open not long after, a brunette woman of average height, athletic build, late 50s by his estimate, brunette hair swept up into a messy bun with a pencil, walking in and shutting it behind her. She exuded confidence, dark eyes peering down at Williams questioningly. Setting a folder down on the table, she sat and clasped her hands on top of it, silent. 

Williams decided to go first, playing at nerves on end. “Can we stop with the cloak and dagger and tell me why I’m here? I tried to do one nice thing for the mother of my child and I ended up with a gun pointed at me and a dead woman,” he protested, voice reaching a slightly higher octave. He shook his head. “Rach gets a headache and in trying to fix it, I get a bigger one. It’s a wonder goodwill is going down the toilet these days if this is the way a good deed gets treated.” 

The woman continued to watch him, letting the silence stretch after he went quiet again. Then she leaned forward. “Mr Williams, do you know who I am?”

Williams spread out his hands, at least as far as the handcuffs would allow. “No. Do I look like someone who regularly pals around with law enforcement? No, I make my donations to the department every year, I stick to the speed limit, and I keep an eye out for suspicious activity in my neighborhood. That is the kind of behavior that does _not_ merit regular law enforcement interaction,” he stated, pounding a finger on the table. “And this? This is a violation of my rights. I have yet to be given a chance to talk to my legal representation. My phone call? Nonexistent. So maybe you should tell me who you are so I can talk to someone about the behavior of you and your men.” 

Something about his rant amused her, lips stretching into a thin smile. “My name is Special Agent-in-Charge Doris McGarrett.”

_Aw fuck me._ Keeping the surprise out of his expression involved a struggle of epic proportions.

“So you can drop the act, Mr. Williams. I am very aware of what it is you do when you’re not playing philanthropist and son burdened with the family business after the disappearance of his father.” Her head tilted, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “What would a philanthropist and businessman be doing keeping the company of my son? And before you start playing a sympathy card for him, I am well aware of his crimes,” she added.

Williams’ shoulders dropped and he leaned back in his seat. The worry and fear melted out of his features, expression going peacefully blank as his eyes took on their usual ice cold look. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk. “Well, he is quite attractive. I do have to applaud your genetics for that, Agent McGarrett.” 

She didn’t seem to find him as funny as he thought he was. “Williams, I have a vague idea of my son’s activity since he dropped off the Navy’s radar. I cannot recall a single time that he has stayed with his employer until you two met. I want to know why.” 

That was the reasoning for the cloak and dagger. McGarrett’s mother wanted to know why they were paling around. Williams stared at her blankly before trying to cross his arms, disgruntled. The chains stopped him short and he was forced to drop his hands back on the table. “I think that’s between me and McGarrett, lady. I don’t go around kissing and telling.” His lips settled back into a satisfied smirk. “Or fucking and telling as the case would be.” 

Agent McGarrett rose from her seat. “If you’re going to charge me with something, cut to the chase, but I refuse to chat with you, have a trip down memory lane, just because you want to know where you went wrong in your obviously model parenting,” he continued, rolling his eyes. She ignored him, walking to the door to knock twice. It opened and two burly men in black entered, heading for Williams.

“What, are we going to play Punch the Jerseyan now? Look, I’m not going to talk so you two blockheads can go back to reminiscing about when you thought you had a chance at the NFL _what the fuck are you doing_?” he demanded as one suddenly yanked his arm straight while the other pulled a syringe out of his pocket. Williams hissed as the needle slid into a vein and the plunger pressed down. Once empty, his arm was released and the two disappeared from the room with a deferential nod to Agent McGarrett, who closed the door behind him. “Okay, this whole cloak and dagger shit is exactly why the American public does not like you people,” he snarled, desperately wanting to rub at the spot and once again pulling up short. 

“We just reserve it for special people, such as yourself. I’m not here to prosecute you, Mr. Williams. That will be for the Newark Police Department once you’re turned over,” she replied, settling in her seat again, expression still neutral.

“You’re not making me want to talk any more with that reassurance than before. ‘We’re just going to have a chat about my son, then you’ll get slapped with charges.’ This is the part where you give me something or no dice.” 

Agent McGarrett pulled the file closer, flipping it open. “What is your name?”

“Daniel Anthony W _hat did you put in me_?” His name rolled right off his tongue before he could stop it entirely. His eyes went wide and he lunged up from the chair, the motion aborted when he nearly face planted on the tabletop. She never once moved, eyeing him with the beginning of irritation present in her expression, mouth a tight line. He almost felt like he was her misbehaving child as he sunk down into his seat again. “You poisoned me.”

“It’s just something to reassure me of your honesty.”

“Same thing.” 

“You forced my hand.”

“You didn’t even try.”

“I don’t negotiate with criminals.”

“I don’t betray my allies.” 

Agent McGarrett tilted her head. “Which is exactly why I forced your hand, Mr. Williams. You and my son have been together six years now and from all reports, inseparable. You two have a bond and I want to know how you got through to him. So you’re going to start from the beginning.” She settled back in her seat, crossing her legs and casually draping her arm over her knee. “Anytime you’re ready.” 

Williams sat back in his chair as well, glaring at her. His mouth began to move of its own accord, missing the memo of _we don’t like her so we’re not going to talk to her._ “It began like all good stories do,” he said angrily and raised his hand off the table as far as he could, thumb raising, point finger out, the rest of his fingers curling in to make the shape of a gun. “Mutual gunpoint.”


	2. Chapter 2

_One, two, three._

Williams gloved fists’ beat the pattern into the pads held by the old Russian over and over again, gaze tracking the movements to keep his punches dead center. His breath came in harsh expulsions until Ivan finally stepped away, holding up his padded hands. “Done,” he stated in his thick accent, giving Williams a sharp shake of his head in emphasis of his words. “You hit any harder, I won’t feel palms for a week. You are very angry.” He shook a hand at him before trapping the pad between his knees to pull it free. 

Angry. One way to describe it. Williams backed up to the ropes that surrounded the ring, flexing his fingers. “I’m not angry. I’m in control,” he replied as he stripped the velcro straps off, pulling the fingerless boxing gloves off his hands. 

“And I am Queen of England,” Ivan shot back. He poked his left pointer finger into his right palm. “See this? Numb. Our last session was not such. You are angry.” Ivan shook a finger at him. “The old man is on your mind again.” 

Williams huffed out an annoyed breath, throwing an arm across his chest and pulling it tight to stretch the muscles. “Not everything is about the old man, Ivan.” Not really. It just so happened that his trainer was dead on and he found it annoying. Whereas most of the world fell for the face he presented to the world, the old Russian read him like a book and called him out on it when the two of them were alone. 

Ivan rolled his eyes and climbed between the ropes, slowly climbing down to the floor. Williams followed after him, landing with a little more ease. The old man slid his fingers under Williams elbow and turned him none too gently towards the office and locker rooms. “Too bad. Old man is on my mind. Sergei is not happy with him and his behavior. Cutting him out more and more,” he protested. 

“Well, tell Sergei that he is not the only one. Pops is convinced that I am useless as a criminal, so he doesn’t take me into confidence. You should hear him bitch about not having an heir worthy of his position. He’s already eyeing his buddy Samuel’s son. Richie. Puts his sadistic streak front and center, throws his very considerable girth around when he doesn’t get what he wants,” Williams muttered and shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to give Ivan an impatient look. Now that they were done with the workout, the sweat cooling on his sleeveless arms created a chill that raced down his back. 

“You play long game too well, Daniel. That is problem. I know you better than your own family.” Ivan leaned forward, tapping Williams’ temple harshly. “Know there are more brains, very talented brains in there that you hide from world. Very well. But you know, you know that keeping peace with Bratva is good for family, good for people. No good comes of angering your neighbors.” 

Williams tilted his head up, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. “You sound like you’re mad that you backed the wrong horse and the investment isn’t paying off, Ivan. My MBA in business and I are happy owning Vibe, which has been hailed as one of the safest places to party in the state _again_ , mind you.” 

For a moment, he thought the old Russian would blow. His thin face turned a shade of red that contrasted sharply with his snow white hair, then he pivoted sharply on his foot and stalked into his office, hands waving animatedly in the air in unspoken frustration before the door slammed hard behind him. Williams waited in the silence for him to return for a last word, but when none came, he shrugged and headed for the locker room.

The nighttime sessions after the gym closed cost a little more, but Williams preferred the peace and quiet to the loud and raucous atmosphere during the day. Those were his nights on the regular as a nightclub owner and the break became necessary if he ever needed to hear himself think in complete sentences that didn’t fall in line with a beat. One night, he’d even found himself near rapping business invoices to a throbbing beat downstairs that just wouldn’t end. 

The locker door banging against its neighbor sounded like a gunshot echoing through the room. If it came a few seconds later, it would have covered the small squeak of the door swinging closed. Ivan made noise, he stomped, he grumbled, he even breathed noisily. The soft hush of the locker room door was followed by silence, the hair on the back of Williams’ neck prickling. Maybe it was a draft but he was not a man prone to writing off intuition. Rising slowly from the bench, he reached into his locker and withdrew the gun concealed in his gym back. He concealed the weapon from the rest of the room as he thumbed off the safety, then swung around.

His newcomer already stood in position, his own gun pointed squarely at Williams’ chest. Dressed head to toe in black, wearing a mask that covered everything but the eyes, the best approximation he could get was that of a male, athletic and a lean kind of muscular. Cold blue eyes were focused intently on him and he didn’t speak a single word. One did not grow up in a mafia family without knowing a hit when he saw one. 

Williams’ brain switched tracks quickly, a fine tremble running along his arms. He swallowed hard, making sure his gun pointed slightly downward, as if his desperate shot would be at a leg, not a killing one. His eyes widened, trying to appear as if he were covering his fear badly. Meanwhile, his mind stayed cool and steady. It was a con he’d pulled before, convincing so-called alpha posturing males to lower their guard enough for him to slip in and take them unawares. Over the years, he’d perfected it enough that most people fell for it, including his own father. For someone who preferred words to weapons, the con was where it was at.

“Look,” he said softly, refusing to lower the weapon, “I don’t know why you’re here, except for me, but maybe the two of us can make a deal, yeah? I’m good for it. You make an offer and I talk to my father, he pays up, we all go our own ways, very happy. Think of all the clean up you don’t have to do tonight, huh? Also, Ivan gets really angry when people spill blood outside of the ring. Health codes,” he added, cringing as if Ivan were the scariest man he’d ever met instead of a toothless Doberman who gummed on people relentlessly when annoyed. 

Silence ticked by, one beat, two beats, three beats. 

Then a bullet whizzed past _his fucking ear._ Williams’ reaction was delayed by the shock of being shot at, but he brought his weapon up soon after. The bullet just missed the black clad figure, almost in motion, and lodged in the wooden door that led back out to the main gym. Williams hopped up onto the bench, the gun held out in front of him steadily, drawing in a deep breath. “You son of a bitch,” he muttered, then went utterly still when he heard soft laughter from a far corner of the locker room, two locker rows away. 

“I knew it was an act.” The voice was male, as suspected, and the accent American, but narrowing it down anymore than that wasn’t happening. Williams frowned, training the gun on the spot. 

“You want to explain further or are you going to come out so we can finish the shoot out at the OK Locker room, huh?” he challenged. 

Surprising him again, the gunman stepped out from behind the locker row, this time with hands in the air, gun holstered on his thigh, and the mask gone. Williams’ eyebrow arched, lips pursing slightly as he took in the dark hair with a small dusting of gray, the storm eyes (hazel? blue?), a handsome face and a wicked smirk. 

“The whole ‘my family is mob, but I’m the disappointment who wants as far from the life as possible’,” the other man replied, lowering his hands slowly to lean against the locker row, arms crossing. 

Williams started to ask him to clarify when the door banged open and Ivan swung through, sawed off shotgun pumped and ready to put a hole straight through anyone unlucky enough to be in its path. “ _Jesus Christ, Ivan!_ ” Williams shouted, arms going up in the air as the shotgun trained on his chest, feeling a real thrill of fear. 

“Watch your blasphemous mouth, Daniel,” Ivan growled, lowering the shotgun and shaking an angry finger in his direction, before spinning to face the other man. “And you, McGarrett, putting holes in my locker room. _Again_.” Before either man could react, Ivan slapped the back of McGarrett’s head and then whirled around on his heel. “Take care of business outside of gym. Not cleaning up your shit for brains,” he yelled over his shoulder before the door swung shut. 

McGarrett rubbed the back of his head with a gloved hand. “It was a rubber bullet for a reaction,” he mumbled, which made Williams turn to eye the dent in the locker critically. Sure enough, it was just a dent. He hopped down from the bench, turning back to scowl at McGarrett.

“I’d say I hope that Ivan scrambled your brains with that slap, but your brains already seem to be, _McGarrett._ Now, elaborate before I put a hole in your head with my very real ammo and offer to pay Ivan’s cleaning bill. Self-defense doesn’t come cheap.” 

McGarrett shifted his stance, leaning his back against the end of the locker row. His movement reminded him of a cat, movements lazy but still ready to spring at a moment’s notice. It was why he was staying far, far out of the other man’s reach. 

“Your father hired me to take you out. Not as a threat, but a disappointment. As with all targets, I do my research and found there was hidden depth to Daniel Williams once the pieces fell into place.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowed curiously. “Kidnapped at the age of 13, forced to kill your kidnapper.” 

“That happens when your father shrugs off the request for ransom,” Williams replied flatly. 

“A model citizen ever since. I do mean model in every sense of the word. Teachers speak highly of your work ethic, the newspapers of your giving back to the community.” He held up a hand, fingers moving slowly along as if walking. “All in all, as far from the picture of a mobster’s kid as possible. Then I started digging deeper. All those criminal justice classes you took in college? High honors in business covered those all up but I doubt those were part of the requirements for graduation.” 

Williams shrugged. “I thought about the police academy after college but then I found Vibe and fell in love. Gave up pursuit of a badge for a nightclub. I understand that is not as noble, but I am not a violent man,” he said, holding up his hands. 

“I’m sure you’re not,” McGarrett replied softly. His expression was no longer amused, but solemn and thoughtful. “See, when I put it all together, I saw a man building a reputation by fooling those around him, so when he finally took his position, no one would see it coming and no one would realize what happened for a long, long time. At least until you couldn’t hide it any longer.” 

All right, he did not like this smug asshole, who barged into his life and then through his carefully crafted con within minutes of nearly plunking him in the head with a rubber bullet. “Say that you’re right about this,” Williams stated, waving the gun around. McGarrett started to raise a finger, but instead slowly turned to slide behind the locker row. Williams gave the gun a look, rolled his eyes again, and flipped on the safety. “Say you’re right. You were paid to put one between my eyes, no doubt make it look like an accident so grieving dad could garner pity. Why would you sit here and deconstruct my supposed plans back to me? Do you think that I am going to break down, make it easy on you to do your job? Maybe I could drive you out to a nice little spot, help you dig the hole, sit on the edge while you put one in my head?” He put a hand to his heart. “Gosh, that would just be helpful, wouldn’t it?” 

“The opposite,” McGarrett called back, then poked his head around the corner to see if Williams had put the gun down yet. “I have a good friend who is looking to ally with the East Coast. Unfortunately, most families out here either aren’t interested or don’t meet his qualifications. He’s a subtle man and he wants a subtle partner.”

“Hence asking a man who subtly played those around him for years.” 

“Yes. The problem comes in that he wants someone with experience, but you can fix that with a few years at the head. He’s patient. He’ll wait.” 

Williams slowly sat down on the bench. “You do understand that this knocks my timeline out of whack, right?” He held up a hand. “And how do I know that you aren’t - you know what, come here.” 

“Why?”

“Wires. Get over here.” He tossed his gun into the locker. “See? Unarmed. Now get over here.” 

McGarrett moved towards him with a slow swagger, tall body moving with an assured confidence that Williams found attractive. He made no secret of his appraisal as he swept his gaze up and down his body. Once McGarrett was in range, Williams moved forward to run his hands over him. Confirming his initial guess, McGarrett was nicely muscled under the ninja clothing. Arms, shoulders, torso, thighs, and calves. He was also, Williams noted as his fingers ran over it, well packed in the area between his legs. He glanced up to see McGarrett smirking down at him and he allowed the image of this man shoving him against the lockers while the two fought for domination and getting each other’s clothes off. 

“Well, you’re not packing anything that could ruin the possibility of a new friendship. Maybe a thing or two in favor of,” Williams replied dryly. “All right, now, back to business.” He cleared his throat and turned back to the locker, pulling his shirt off over his head. It wasn’t overconfidence that made him feel like there was a gaze slowly sweeping down his body, he was sure of that. “This moves my timeline up a few months.”

“It will be worth your while. The quicker you act, the quicker I can introduce you. I found you first, made my pitch to him, then maneuvered myself into position to take the hit. Make sure that no one takes you out while you make a name for yourself,” McGarrett replied conversationally. Williams kicked his shorts off and reached into the locker for his pants. 

“You made yourself my right hand man before I knew I would be in the market for one,” he murmured, then both eyebrows rose, bottom lip sticking out slightly, head tilting. “As far as resumes go, I’m impressed. You realize that I’m going to have to do my research as well.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact, I would rescind the offer and follow through on the hit if you didn’t say that.” 

Williams snorted. “That’s good to know. Look, I need a week. You’ll know when to show up at the house, which you’ve probably learned the address of already in your research.” McGarrett tilted his head in acknowledgement. Reaching into his bag again, Williams pulled out a poker chip and flipped it to McGarrett. “A drink at Vibe, on the house. Toast to a new partnership. Hopefully.” 

He was just starting to button up his shirt when the door opened slightly, the tip of a shotgun poking through. “I hear nothing in there. You better be fucking and not one of you dead!” the old gym owner shouted.


	3. Chapter 3

_Fingers dug hard into his shoulder, keeping him in place while a hand shoved the phone against his ear. Danny swallowed hard, holding the gaze of the tall man in front of him. His nose looked flat, like someone broke it and then broke it again, eyes dark and mean. He raised a hand and twirled a finger in the air, telling him to hurry it up. His other hand held his best friend’s shirt in a tight grasp, silent tears running down Billy’s face, his chin wobbling as he tried to bite back sobs._

_Danny’s face remained utterly dry, despite him wanting to curl into a small ball away from these men. He just wanted to go home. “Dad?” he said softly, his young voice coming out soft but steady._

_“Daniel.” Edward Williams’ voice sounded distant, as if this distraction interfered with other things more deserving of his attention. Still, he pressed on._

_“They said that if you bring half a million, they’ll let us go.” The tall man’s head nodded in approval. “Me and Billy.”_

_A sigh came down the line, a rustling followed by muffled voices that he couldn’t make out. Danny shifted his wrists, the sticky side of the duct tape pulling at the fine hairs on his wrist. They’d grown raw a day ago from all the pulling he attempted. “Daniel, we discussed this. I think you know the answer.”_

_Danny’s eyes closed and he let out a soft breath. “If I want to be a leader someday, I have to be able to get myself out of a situation.” His captor’s brows furrowed, his head tilting. He shot a look at the man behind Danny, who gave him a hard shake._

_“Dad, please, they just want the money and - “ His words were coming faster now, tumbling over each other, but the dial tone on the other end brought him up short. His heart thundering in his chest, his body starting to shake, Danny looked up at the tall man. “He hung up. No deal,” he said quietly._

_The tall man cursed in a language he recognized from the men who visited his father. Once that was out of his system, he whirled back on his partner. “Get rid of them. Start with the redhead because his crying is annoying me,” he snarled, shoving Billy into Danny and the two of them toppling onto the ground. Then Billy was being pulled off him, screaming and reaching for Danny while he stayed frozen on the ground, holding his breath_

Williams shot awake, drawing in a deep breath as if he hadn’t breathed in minutes. His hands shook as he pushed them through his hair, bending forward to touch his forehead to his knees. Heartbeat racing in his chest, small, shallow breaths were the most he could manage. He recognized the signs of an attack and kicked aside the sheets, climbing out of bed. Flicking the bathroom lights on, he pulled open the door on the medicine cabinet and pawed through, dropping things into the sink. Finally, he found the prescription. He clutched the bottle in his shaking hands before muttering a quiet ‘no’ under his breath and abruptly dropping it into the sink. 

The bottle of whiskey sat exactly where he left it the night before and he bypassed the glass entirely to take a swig straight from the bottle. Between the shallow breaths and jerky movements, he choked before swallowing it all down, feeling it burn. Another couple of gulps and a few minutes and the bottle was empty. Williams pivoted and threw it at the wall, glass shattering over the floor of his condo. Most days, he successfully kept his Achilles heel, his anxiety, under control, but there were nights when old memories surfaced and triggered an attack. This time, he took the attack as a sign.

The burner phone stayed tucked in a plastic bag in the toilet tank when it wasn’t in use, so he retrieved it and a shirt, padding out onto the small patio off his living room. After tugging on the shirt, he curled up in a chair and dialed up the only number programmed in. When the line connected, he waited a beat before stating, “there’s been an offer and I think we should move up the plan up.”

“Good god, Daniel. Do you know what time it is?” Rachel’s hushed voice carried the slight slur of someone who wasn’t entirely awake yet. “Couldn’t this wait until morning?”

Williams shook his head, then remembered she couldn’t see it. “No, Rach, it can’t. He put a hit on me.” 

When Rachel spoke again, the sleepiness had left her voice. “That bloody bastard,” she muttered. “Do you think he suspects?” 

“No. I don’t think he does. If he did, he would have sent someone with half a brain after me instead of a merc with smarts. The offer came from him.” When Rachel didn’t respond, Williams took that as his cue to elaborate. “He did indepth research on me before he came after me. You and I both know that a run of the mill gun for hire isn’t going to do that. Not only, he has contacts in high places. He has someone he thinks will want to ally with us, once he sees how the family does under my command.” 

They’d spent enough time married that he could picture Rachel’s every movement now, the way she would tuck her robe around her before sinking down into the armchair in the living room of the house that she shared with that putzy new husband of hers. The focus in her eyes, delicate fingers brushing the hair away from her face, mouth pursed in thought. “Can we trust him?” she asked bluntly. “Anyone can make pretty promises, Daniel, but following through is the next thing.”

“We’re about to see,” Williams replied, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. While they were both logic-focused individuals, he couldn’t explain to her that there was something about McGarrett that he _wanted_ to trust. The straightforward way in which he’d been approached (if highly unnecessary and he owed him one for that) and the offer made. Ivan even vouched for him later, not giving him much in the way of information, but stating that he liked McGarrett. _Emotionally stunted but is okay._ “I planted some information with him and I’m giving it a few days. If I go up to the cabin and my father is surprised to see me, then McGarrett has some honor.” He snorted. “As much honor as anyone can have in this business. If he’s not surprised, well, then McGarrett’s a rat that needs to be drowned in the harbor.” 

“All that needed at the end of it is a ‘capiche’,” Rachel stated dryly. “While you see where your little plan goes, I’ll look into our mystery man. McGarrett, you said? By chance, did you get a first name?”

“Of course. After he shot at my head with a rubber bullet to get me to drop the act, I took him out for tea and scones then we had a wonderful frolic through the park. It was quite lovely,” Williams replied mock poshly. 

“There was no need for that,” she admonished him. “And honestly, if he was pretty enough, I’m surprised you didn’t invite him home for a roll in the hay. If he does his research, he already knows where you live.” 

That partially occurred to him after leaving the gym, but this time, the idea that McGarrett might have other ‘eyes and ears’ in play followed on its heels. Climbing out of the chair, he reentered the apartment, brushing his hand under every flat surface, checking high spots for any bugs. “The whole military thing is a turn off unless it comes with a uniform I can tear off, you know that.”

Rachel hummed on the other end. “You protest too much, Daniel,” she replied. “If it’s tall, dark, handsome or gorgeous, you’re all over it. Even better if it doesn’t take your shit.” 

Williams straightened up from his investigation under a coffee table, frowning in the darkness. “That is not my type. I do not have a type. A type would require me having more interest than just a quick fuck up against the wall for a stress reliever.”

“Tall. Dark. Handsome or gorgeous,” Rachel repeated, her voice almost sing song. He grit his teeth in annoyance. “A hundred that you will be luring our mystery hitter into bed if this turns out to be legit.” 

The thing with Rachel, their marriage ended because while they worked together well, Williams’ inability to play a loving husband when she needed one affected their personal lives. Sniffing a hint of instability in the relationship, Edward chose to move in and blackmail Rachel, threatening to tell her father that Rachel tried to help the Williams family cut the London crime family out. Untrue, of course, but Rachel and Williams chose the path of divorce, playing it as an ultimate separation until they figured out what Edward was up to. Now Williams knew. 

Rachel knew him better than anyone. It was the reason he’d tapped her to be his consigliere once he stepped into the role of head of the family, the two of them carefully crafting their plan. She was cool and collected brains to his hotheaded sharpness and reactions. He refused to admit it but she’d once told him that she knew he’d be lost without her. It might have been true. Maybe. He had enough on his plate without putting her in a position to find out.

And too much damn loyalty to her, annoyingly enough.

“Fine. I’ll happily take your hundred.” 

Rachel clucked her tongue at him. “And I’ll happily take yours. Also, your daughter wants to know if she can have her birthday party at Vibe.”

Williams stopped. “She’s ten, Rachel. _Ten_. She does not need a birthday party at a nightclub, not even if it’s a day party with balloons and clowns and a freaking tea party,” he growled. “I will not have clowns anywhere on my property. Not after her seventh birthday party.” 

“Nightclub, Daniel. Focus.”

“Right. No, she cannot have her party at Vibe. She can have her party at Chuckie Cheese’s like the rest of her classmates. With the balls and the slides and shit.” 

“And the germs and god knows what else that exists in that ball pit,” Rachel stated in disgust. “Think. You owe your daughter a decent birthday party where you are fully there the entire time.” 

Blow landed. Unable to come up with an appropriate answer, he pulled the phone away from his ear. “You...breaking...u-” Williams hit the END button and threw the phone on the counter, settling on a nearby stool. His lips pursed after a moment and he tilted his head, eyebrows raising. 

“Maybe I do have a type.”


	4. Chapter 4

Williams cleared his throat after coming to a halt in his story. He held up one manacled hand, pointer finger up, and cleared it again. “Yeah, all right, I get that this is some classified bullshit because there is no way this would be legal otherwise with the coercion, but come on. If you want a story, you should supply some water. My throat feels like I’ve been walking in the Sahara for weeks with all the talking I’ve been doing,” he demanded, slumping down in his seat. “It’s a common courtesy, you know. Even you federal schmucks should know that one.” 

Agent McGarrett gave him a look that plainly stated she thought he was being a tad overdramatic, but she rose to her feet and headed for the door. “From what I hear, Mr. Williams, you love to talk, so I didn’t think it would be much of a hardship for you.” She knocked on the door and when it opened, she spoke to the man outside in low tones, enough that even his decent hearing couldn’t pick it up. Instead, Williams sunk down further into his seat. What exactly had she meant by that comment? He’d never ratted. He wasn’t a rat. He didn’t talk, not ever, and took care of his own business, took care of those loyal to him, who he reciprocated the loyalty. 

“What was that supposed to mean?” he demanded when she returned to her seat. Agent McGarrett smiled, clasping her hands in front of her on the table. 

“It means nothing, Mr. Williams, though you seem a little worried about it. Is there something you would like to discuss outside of the story we’re already working on?” Williams scowled at her, sitting up and clasping his own hands on the table, mirroring her pose, before leaning forward.

“Look, I can talk all you want me to. You can continue pumping me full of that truth shit. At the end of the day though? The only thing you’re going to learn is that your son and I are like this,” he said, holding up a hand and twisting two fingers together, “and this whole concerned mother charade isn’t going to get you anywhere. You’ve lost your son. Get over it.” 

Agent McGarrett’s gaze darkened and he saw her draw in a breath to respond when the door opened again and one of the black clad agents came in, carrying a pitcher and two cups. One he set in front of Agent McGarrett, a styrofoam takeout cup that Williams could smell the hot, fresh coffee in. He gazed sadly at the cup until he realized the second cup had been set in front of him. A tiny, tiny little cup. He stared at it for a good half minute before he picked it up, arched an eyebrow, and looked to Agent McGarrett.

Calmly taking a sip of her coffee, she nodded to the pitcher at her elbow. “I control your water supply, Mr. Williams, so you better stay on my good side.” 

Williams slammed the cup down in front of her. “I already told you part of the story, which I believe is cooperation under duress, so pay me,” he snarled. She poured him a dollop (Williams didn’t call a woman a bitch, but he was rethinking that stance at the moment) and then motioned for him to drink. 

He did so, but made sure she knew he hated being told what to do without spilling a single drop. Water was apparently as precious as dock control here. He tossed the cup back down, letting it roll around in front of him, and dropped his hands back to the table. She motioned to him. “Please continue. Skip the part with your father unless Steven was involved. We’ll get that full story soon enough.” 

\--------------

_”Look, you can ask me the question over and over, but I won’t have a better answer for you. I’m sorry! No one wants to find my father more than me for the sake of my family, but this is drawing blood from a stone, detective. I’ve given you everything I know!” Williams looked desperately from man to man, both staring stoically back at him. “You want my help? I’m working with my mother to set funds aside. Give me a tip line number and I will make sure that if anyone out there has any information, they will bring it to you. I swear.”_

_It wasn’t lie. Every detail of the plan had been so carefully mapped out, so carefully executed, that come Christmas, there would be no evidence left at all of the few scraps that remained. He was a man who wasn’t afraid to take care of his own dirty business and that meant less room for error. So he’d put a generous cash reward out there with the tip line provided by the police, beg for answers, work the angle of the distraught son. His cooperation would ensure them moving on to other angles, other leads. Eventually, they would only see Danny Williams as the poor kid who wanted a life of his own and instead inherited the last thing he wanted._

_A few days later, on the steps of the precinct, Williams humbly made his way to the podium with a few cards of information and made an impassioned plea to the people of his city. Help bring his father home. If anyone had any information, please call the police. It could be done anonymously. There was a reward in play. The press ate it up, experienced journalists watching him with expressions of sympathy as he bravely pushed through his statement. He rubbed at his eyes as if the days brought him no sleep anymore because of worry._

_If he’d been a professional musician, this would have been the best solo he’d ever played. Instead, he played the people. The people who whispered about his father’s illicit activities, who feared him despite the lack of evidence, who wanted him out of their city. Instead, they felt for this young man who had been nothing but a pillar in the community, the owner of a popular night club, someone who donated his time and energy to charitable events, and the grief he felt for his father, the exhaustion and the stress. In the back of their minds, they settled on innocence before they even realized it._

_He deserved an Oscar._

\-------

The house was silent when he arrived, his mother no doubt off elsewhere, cashing in her own sympathy points. Williams strode across the small foyer to the door that led into his father’s office. As his hand started to turn the doorknob, he heard the faint buzz of the TV inside, his own muffled voice making an impassioned plea. He pushed it open, sliding through the small crack before sliding the door shut again. In the dimming light from the big windows, Steve McGarrett sprawled on the couch, one leg across the cushions while the other rest on the ground. A long arm stretched along the couch’s back while the other held the remote control. His attention seemed to be caught up in the news’s replay of the press conference until he finally spoke. “That was a hell of a performance you gave.” He turned his attention over to Williams.

Williams gracefully drew his feet together, tucked an arm behind his back, and bowed with all the skill that would make a Victorian gentleman proud, his other arm extending to his side with a flourish. The corner of McGarrett’s mouth curved up into a smirk, dark eyes glistening in amusement. Sitting up, he politely golf clapped as Williams straightened up and held up his hands. _No applause please. Please, you’re embarrassing me._ McGarrett dropped back into his corner, again sprawling out, and Williams took the moment to appreciate the lines. The t-shirt did nothing to hide the lean muscles on his arm and stomach, nor did the pants hide the nice shape of his legs. There was hint of tattoo disappearing under the shirt sleeves, something unique and colorful, not something he was sure he would have expected out of a professional like McGarrett. No doubt a leftover from his life pre-mercenary.

“It was a test, wasn’t it? You let me know what you were going to do, go for your father, and then you gave me time to see if I would warn him.” Williams paused beside his father’s desk, tilting his head. Smart little mercenary.

“I had to know if you were on the up and up, so to speak,” he replied, leaning against the edge. “The look on his face though. I didn’t get my acting abilities from him. He was legitimately surprised, which makes me think you might be invested in my ascendance after all.” 

McGarrett shifted in his seat to look at Williams, turning off the TV as he did so. “There are two of us that are invested. Myself to a much lesser degree as I hate the politics of it all, but I can tell you that my friend knows about you now and he is very interested to see where you take this family.” That he hated politics gave Williams a hint to the other thing he questioned, the possibility that McGarrett might be cosying up to take him out at a later date and take over the family at the same time. It still left his mysterious ‘friend’, however. 

“When someone stubbornly remains so rooted in tradition that they start dragging the family down, a fresh perspective can only take it up,” Williams replied. “Starting with coming into the digital era.” Twisting to look at the (legal) paperwork spread across the surface of the desk, he ran his hand over it, watching with slight glee as it swirled into the air like a snowstorm, settling across the floor. “And then I think cutting out a few things that had nothing to do with the ability to run a business. Like who you’re fucking.” He settled up on the desktop, leaning back. 

That caught McGarrett’s attention, the other man finally getting up from the couch. His arms stretched over his head in an easily fluid movement that reminded Williams of the big cats at the zoo, t-shirt moving up just enough to bare a hint of muscular belly and a dusting of dark hair disappearing into the waist of his cargos. Williams tapped his fingers lightly on the desk. “I just had a thought. Handshakes are so old fashioned and we still have things to go over before we make this completely official but how would you like to help me break tradition and do a preliminary agreement all in one?” Williams grinned at him, flicking his eyes up the length of McGarrett’s body.

McGarrett leaned in, purposefully invading Williams’ personal space. If the idea was intimidation, Williams wasn’t having it. Instead, he leaned in, his lips a breath from McGarrett’s. The two of them locked eyes, an unspoken challenge between them. Then the smallest hint of a smirk began to grace McGarrett’s lips again, Williams’ dick stirred in his pants, and that was just about all the approval he needed from his advisor on all matters carnal. 

He fisted his hands in McGarrett’s t-shirt and pulled him in, lips hungrily meeting his. McGarrett slid between his knees, hands leaving the desk to yank the knot out of Williams’ tie and tugging the fabric loose, letting it slide to the desk as he caught a firm hold on his shirt and pulled, buttons flying everywhere. Then his hands, rough hands, slid over his skin, along his side, and down to his backside, skipping off skin and onto fabric as they slid onto his ass and pulled him forward.

“Whoa,” Williams growled against McGarrett’s lips. “Who said you could take control so fast, huh?” He pulled back, fingers grasping the hem of his t-shirt. “Lift your arms.” It wasn’t a request, but a hard command, and McGarrett happily responded. Williams tugged the shirt off and tossed it, letting it fall where it may. If the room wasn’t covered in destroyed clothing by the time the sun set, someone had done something wrong and it wasn’t him. 

His lips slid over McGarrett’s skin, over the lightly stubbled, chiseled jawline, down that long neck to the collarbone. With an evil grin, Williams nipped hard enough to earn a hiss and then sucked on the spot. _Mine_. His hands deftly undid McGarrett’s belt and pulled it out, another item carelessly thrown away. Button popped, zipper undone, he slid his hand in (no underwear, bless the man) and slid his fingers around him, stroking. “Fuck, McGarrett, you didn’t tell me you were carrying a WMD in your pants,” Williams lifted his lips to his ear to whisper into it. 

McGarrett snorted softly and his reply came non-verbally, shoving Williams’ coat and shirt off his shoulders in one motion. His fingers dug into his back, nails biting deep, and a shiver ran down Williams’ back at the pain and pleasure mixing into one desireable feeling. His fingers stroked faster, up and down the length, until he abruptly stopped. McGarrett growled in his ear and pulled back. “Don’t you fucking s-”

“Say pretty please and I’ll do you one better,” Williams’ promised, running his fingers over McGarrett’s stomach. He leaned in, experimentally taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly and leaving it with a sharp nip and a tongue flick. 

He thought McGarrett would tell him to fuck off, but instead, he grit his teeth, grip tightening on Williams’ backside again. “Pretty fucking please.” Williams smirked, placing a hand on his stomach and shoving him back enough to slide off the desk. Then he grabbed McGarrett’s belt loop and shoved, knocking him back onto the desk. He took a great amount of pleasure in the look of surprise on his face, the brief flailing. Williams knocked more objects off the desk and pushed between McGarrett’s knees, sharply tugging down on his pants. The movement wasn’t as fluid as it could have been, McGarrett having to shift to let the cargos come down fully, but the objective was still achieved. 

“I understand that people look down on giving a blow job, like it makes you the weaker of the pair, but myself, I find that it’s very, very useful in controlling people.” His finger ran along the length of McGarrett’s dick, then bent down to run his tongue along the tip before slowly taking him into his mouth. He stopped, pulling back. “Are you going to fuck me over, McGarrett?” he asked softly, running a hand along the inside of the man’s thigh.

“No. I told you that,” McGarrett answered, panting slightly. Williams continued his soft touches before he bent down again, taking him further into his mouth this time. When he elicited a needful sound from the man on the desk, he pulled back again. 

“Are you sure about that? Better yet, is your ‘friend’?” McGarrett was in full salute by now and Williams ghosted his fingertips over the erection, enough that he would know he was there, enough to keep him wanting.

“Fuck you! I said no and I meant no!” McGarrett snapped at him. “Just...” He waved inarticulately down his body.

“This?” Williams asked casually, pointing at his erection. “This?” he asked, pointing to his mouth. “On that?” He pointed down again. There was something extremely enjoyable about the way McGarrett’s eyes darkened with a look that promised homicide if he didn’t finish what he started. “Swear to me that the only thing your friend has in mind is a partnership between the two coasts and not my removal after I pull this family back up.” 

He wasn’t quite expecting McGarrett to sit up, hand sliding down beneath the waistband of Williams’ pants (and look, he wasn’t wearing underwear either), to wrap his hand around him and hold tightly. “I may be a mercenary, but I keep my word,” he stated softly as Williams’ winced slightly and blew out a breath. 

“All right, fine. Ease up, soldier. That’s not a Bop It in my pants,” Williams muttered, shoving him backwards again. McGarrett let loose and flopped back while Williams made good on his promise, this time taking him in as far as he could. He flicked his eyes up the length of McGarrett’s body, watching as the mercenary’s head tipped back, his back arching slightly as he worked him with his tongue and testing the faintest pressure of teeth. As it turned out, he’d pegged McGarrett correctly as a thrill seeker. Those hands dug into his hair, messing up the perfectly coiffed blond for a freshly fucked ruffle.

He worked him to the breaking point and then, sliding his mouth off, a few strokes of his hand sent McGarrett over the edge and let Williams watch, the other man digging his fingers into the desk, head back, eyes closed, voice making a wordless confirmation of release. As he lay there, panting and limp, Williams leaned against the desk beside him, keeping that memory fresh in mind as his own hand disappeared into his pants. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”


	5. Chapter 5

His mother had to single handedly be keeping every designer in gaudy jewels and private planes. As Williams sifted through the various credit card statements, he felt the throb in his temple grow as the amount due to the credit card companies did. It wasn’t like the family couldn’t afford it, not when profits had already doubled under his leadership, but the fact that she did so so casually and without a care, using family money as her own, was a problem. A problem his father no doubt encouraged instead of limited. 

Out in the foyer, he heard the door swing open and his mother’s voice instructing her driver to take the bags up to her room. Williams rose from his desk, stack of papers in hand as he left the office. “Ma, we need to talk about this,” he called, catching her as she ascended the stairs after a driver who looked like he wanted the earth to open under his feet and swallow him whole. Williams made a note to include a little extra in his Christmas bonus.

Clara Williams returned down the last few steps, arms lightly folding over her chest in defiance. Chances were, she already knew what he was about to say, so maybe his father hadn’t been such a hopeless case where she was concerned. It occurred to him that he couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t seen her perfectly coiffed, makeup expertly applied, outfits carefully picked out. Everything about her was carefully designed for maximum influence. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time at all. 

“This is getting out of control. The family is not your bank, Ma,” he stated, waving the stack of papers around. “Six credit cards. _Six_. Not a single charge on any of these is related to the business. They’re all personal. Your personal items, I may add.” He held out his free hand. “I want five of them now. You choose which one you want to keep and the rest are going in the shredder.” He made a mental note to keep the three that he did use for legal business expenses under lock and key. His mother was a menace to his credit. 

Clara made no move to take out her wallet, instead sweeping a disdainful look over her eldest son. “My job in this family, Daniel, is to make sure the right people are courted and to keep up this family’s appearance. My job has necessities and I am not about to let you tell me how or how not to acquire them.” 

Williams rubbed his forehead. “You do not need a new outfit for every day of the year. You just don’t. You have shirts and bottoms that can be mixed up and new outfits that can be created. I am not telling you your business, other than quit using the business to fund your insane shopping sprees. Pops may have run this family differently, but this is not his era anymore, okay? We are moving into a new one where we do not spend ridiculous amounts on a, uh,” he glanced down at the credit card statement, “...the hell? How did you spend $12,000 at Target, Ma?” His jaw dropped open. “I didn’t even know you would shop at Target,” he added as a surprised afterthought.

In his distraction, he didn’t see her moving closer until she leaned in close. “A little secret between you and me, Daniel? I would recommend coming down off your high horse because this family isn’t truly yours.” Her red lips twisted into a sneer as she looked him in the eyes. “Not by blood. You’re an Archer, the son of a weak, dirty cop from New York. The only reason you have this position is your father never knew. Otherwise, it would have been Matthew’s birthright, God rest his soul.” 

Williams’ grip on the papers tightened. “Nice theatrics,” he muttered, although when it came to his mother, it wasn’t entirely out of the question. “We’re not in the middle ages anymore. Birthright is antiquated and has no place in running this family. Also, quit trying to sound so pious. You blaspheme every day that ends in Y.” He wasn’t about to touch the fucked up mess that ended in his brother’s death, not when he had a hand in that, even unintentionally. 

Clara pat his cheek. “Just like your sexuality doesn’t? You’re terrible at keeping your relationship with that mercenary a secret, speaking of blaspheming. Because you know how your allies will react.” Her eyes were cold as she smiled at him and Williams wondered what it was like to have a mother smile at him lovingly. She was never interested. “Don’t interfere with my dealings, Daniel, or you won’t like what comes to light. A mother always knows her children’s secrets.” With that, she spun around and headed up the stairs. 

He counted to ten, rubbing the tense spot between his eyes. When that didn’t work, he went back to the office, slamming the paperwork back into the drawer and locking it before he grabbed his coat off the back of the chair. Outside, he met McGarrett just entering the house and while a good, rough fuck would have been desirable, he needed air. Air and alone time before he put another hole in the wall with his fist. “I’m going out,” he snarled as he passed him. “Rachel needed to talk to you when you got in about the Franklin deal.” Before McGarrett could even respond, he slammed the door shut behind him.

The weather was speeding past fall into winter. The weather reports kept predicting snow, but they hadn’t seen a single flake though. The air chilled even more as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across his path and eventually, everything became dark except where lit faintly by street lights. Williams tugged his coat closer around him, fingers brushing the weapon under his arm in reassurance. No one would have the balls to fuck with him, but it didn’t hurt to have the backup on him at all times. 

Of course, he was occasionally wrong. Occasionally people did have the balls to fuck with him, or at least half a pair to sneak up behind him, throw a hood over his face and toss him into the back of a van. At least he assumed it was a van. As he threw his body around, trying to get loose, kicking out at anything nearby, something hard slammed into his temple. Once, twice, and then everything went silent as the grave.

\-----------

When he came to, his fingers had gone numb. By chill or tight zip ties, he wasn’t sure. Both were just as much a possibility. He wiggled them, trying to get the blood flow to return, and opened his eyes. His surroundings blurred in and out before slowly coming together, sharpening. The side of his head throbbed where he’d been struck and he winced in delay, closing his eyes again. “Son of a bitch,” he murmured. 

“Daniel, you’re finally awake.” His body stiffened and he opened one eye to peer up at the man in front of him. Tall, hair quickly becoming a solid gray, face a map of wrinkles, Donovan Johnson smiled amicably down at Williams, as if he’d spotted an old friend across the room and come to say hello. The last time Williams saw him, he’d been tearing his father a new one over a broken deal, cutting the Miami crime boss out of a port deal. 

“Fuck,” Williams groaned, tilting his head back and staring up at the ceiling. “This is the last thing I need today.” He lowered his head, glaring up at Johnson. “It’s Mr. Williams or Williams to you, asshole. No one calls me Daniel. At least no one that I like.” 

“And we wouldn’t want to dislike each other, would we?” Johnson asked, laughing lightly. He spread his hands. “I just want to have a chat and you’ve been refusing to return my calls.”

Williams licked his lips. “I believe I returned to the first call to tell you to go to hell, then refused to return the others because you seem to be able to comprehend that we’re not interested in helping you smuggle drugs.” There were two things the family didn’t deal in, drugs and human trafficking. He may have been the worst father alive, but he refused on moral grounds to let another man’s child be sold against her will. He wasn’t a complete monster, just mostly. 

“I just want my dock protected like the others, Williams. I’m not asking you to be involved.”

“You make me involved by asking for my protection.” Williams rolled his eyes. “I don’t know how to make that any clearer. I know what goes on in my town. All of it. I don’t want your playboy ass anywhere around here or the business that comes with it,” he added, shrugging his shoulders as much as he possibly could. “So you can untie me and fuck off.”

There it went. The friendly smile gave way to cold eyes and a neutral expression. “I’m sorry we have to do it this way then.” He wasn’t sorry at all and Williams had been expecting the next part. It wasn’t as if he would actually drop it with a firm ‘no’. 

The man he beckoned must have been the result of a sick liaison between a human being and a bull. Even his paunch was all muscle. With a grin that flashed a few piece of gold, he slipped flexed his fingers, drew back, and then slammed his fist into Williams’ jaw, so hard the chair fell over and he crashed onto his shoulder, wincing as pain shot through his jaw and the arm. 

“That all you got? My grandmother punches harder than you and she’s got osteoporosis.” Working his jaw, Williams glanced up at a blank look. “Sorry, was that word too big for your pea brain to comprehend?” 

The kick to the stomach worked in lieu of a verbal response.

\------------

So this was undoubtedly the worst he’d ever been worked over. Williams had been beaten before, several times in fact, occasions that he used to learn to fight back and become stronger than before. A man who couldn’t take pain had no business running a family and he could take a lot of pain. This certainly wasn’t the enjoyable kind though. 

Sitting upright again, he ran his tongue along his upper lip, tasting copper and sweat. His body ached all over and his wrists were rubbed raw from the repeated falling over, straining against the zip ties with every movement. Brutus, as he’d come to call the dimwit beating on him, took a break to go get a drink of water while Johnson returned. He pulled up a chair, sitting across from Williams.

“So,” he said conversationally, crossing a leg over his knee and daintily resting his hands on the leg, “have I made a compelling argument?” 

Williams sniffed and wrinkled up his nose. “Yeah, sure, you made a hell of an argument for you being a pussy,” he stated, grinning smugly. It was probably a terrifying sight if he correctly predicted the state of his face and he was absolutely fine with that. “What’s wrong, worried about ruining your manicure on my face, babe?” he taunted. “Shit, even I work with my people. Where did you disappear off to? To have a spot of tea?” 

Johnson’s expression darkened and he moved the chair closer, reaching out to grab Williams’ jaw. The action was most likely meant to be threatening, but his grip was so weak that Williams only glared at him in annoyance and tilted his head back enough to jerk his chin free from the grasp. That only seemed to anger Johnson more and he rose from his seat. “Andrew!” he bellowed. The dimwit returned, half a sandwich in hand, and Johnson reached under his jacket to pull out his piece. Flipping off the safety, he pressed the gun to Williams’ temple and pulled a phone out of his pocket. His thumb hit one button and then he put it to his ear.

“Yes, is this Rachel Edwards that I’m speaking to? Hello, Rachel, my name is Donovan Johnson - yes, you know who I am? Good, then we can skip to the important part of this conversation. I have your ex-husband here - “ At that point, he forced the phone into Williams’ face.

Williams glared at it before speaking. “Hey, Rach, I’m going to be late for dinner. I have to whip this jackass and teach him a few things about how to act in my terri - “ Brutus put an end to that statement, smashing a meaty fist into Williams’ stomach. He bent forward, struggling to regain his breath. 

“I would like to renegotiate our dock deal,” Johnson continued casually, “or I’ll put a bullet in his head and you’ll be finding yourself in a power struggle the likes of which will tear your family to pieces. Shall I continue?” He pulled the phone away from his face, hitting the speaker button and holding it between them so that Williams could hear as well.

Rachel stayed silent for well over a minute. “No, I will have to decline,” she finally said, sounding almost bored. “Make sure you dispose of the body once you’re done? I hate having to rouse the clean up crews this early.” 

Johnson blinked at the phone. “You really are an unlikable little shit, aren’t you?” he finally asked Williams. “I heard your father wouldn’t pay ransom for you as a child, but I thought it was merely a story. I suppose there was truth behind it.” He grinned ear to ear, as if he had just found out the most wonderful thing. “I’ll be doing the world a favor then. No one wants you around,” he added, pressing the gun to Williams’ temple again.

He expected a gunshot and then it all to just be done. It didn’t put a dent in his defiance as he stared up at the crime boss, chin up, jaw set, stubborn to the last. He was so focused on the man hovering over him that he didn’t see the movement behind him until warm blood splattered on his face and Johnson fell at his feet, eyes wide in surprise. 

“Except me.” McGarrett reholstered the gun and crouched to pick up the phone. “Rach, you still there?” he asked as he moved around back of the chair. Williams felt the pressure on his wrists alleviate and pulled his hands forward, trying to massage feeling back into them. 

“I’m still here. Did you get him?” The concern in her voice was evident. _Tonight is just full of surprises._

“I did. He’s alive. Worse for wear, but alive,” McGarrett replied. Williams snatched the phone from his hand. 

“Way to be the cold-hearted bitch stereotype, Rach,” he stated dryly. He locked eyes with McGarrett as his voice softened. “Thanks.” 

“We work well together,” Rachel stated, as if that was all there was to it. “It would be unfortunate to lose a member of this triumvirate now.” As if the conversation was getting too deep for her tastes, she hung up. 

McGarrett slipped an arm under Williams’, pulling him to his feet. “Come on. She has someone to look you over on the way already,” he told him. “I’ve got this taken care of.”

\----------

As it turned out, Brutus wasn’t that great at handing down beatings. The injuries were superficial at most, looking worse than they actually were. Rachel’s doctor friend left a few recommendations for him to follow and then bid them farewell. With the sun creeping up over the horizon, Williams left his left hand and right hand in the office and limped up the stairs to take a shower before dropping into bed out of exhaustion.

He woke well into the afternoon, huddled under the blankets with a warm body pressed behind him and an arm draped over his waist. Williams blinked fuzzily and then turned to find McGarrett watching him, wide awake. “Look, you creepy fucker, I get that you don’t like what happened while I was out of sight, but it is not in your job description to bodyguard snuggle,” he muttered. His grip tightened on McGarrett’s backside, belaying the complaint. 

“It’s only creepy if I did something else with your body other than guard it while you slept,” McGarrett replied, expression neutral, shoulder rising in a shrug. 

“Creepy fucker,” Williams muttered again, surprised at the sheer amount of affection in his voice. “So you guys would have missed me, huh?”

McGarrett’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You say that like not coming after you was an option.” 

“You’re the one who did your homework. For my father, that was an option.” He started to roll on his back to move to the other side of the bed and climb out when McGarrett’s grip tightened on him and pulled him back. 

“It wasn’t here. Not for Rachel, not for me,” he said steadily. “This isn’t just a job.” 

Williams fell silent. “It’s...I don’t know what the fuck it is. Friendship? Something hippieish and loving?” he said, waving a hand in the air.

“Belonging. It’s belonging.” 

He paused, then raised both hands from beneath the covers, taking McGarrett’s face in his hands. “We’re all fucked up monsters here, huh?” he said softly, then bent in to kiss him. 

McGarrett’s hand was big enough to pin both of Williams’ wrists down once he’d pushed the pillows aside. His other hand traced the bruises on Williams’ arms and face, down his torso. Then he lowered his head, working each one with lips and tongue. Williams’ head tilted back as his dick rose to the challenge despite his body’s protests that after the night he’d had, that was the last thing he needed. McGarrett was surprisingly gentle with him, and while he preferred it rough and house breaking, he couldn’t complain. 

He easily divested them both of their undergarments with one hand and reached over to pull the bottle of lube from the bedside table. His fingers probed into Williams, slicking him up before he warmed him up with his fingers, two, three, then slid in himself. Williams tightened his fingers into McGarrett’s biceps once he let him go, then wrapped his legs around his waist, holding him tight as he began to move inside him. 

“Yeah. We’re all fucked up monsters here,” McGarrett murmured against the skin of his neck, breath hot. Williams ran his fingers into his hair, pulling tightly, maneuvering his head down for a hard kiss, lips parting to push his tongue into his mouth. He dropped one hand to his back, digging his fingernails in and drawing them across his shoulder. McGarrett shivered under his touch. 

“You’re my beautiful fucking monster,” Williams growled possessively against his mouth, nipping at his lip. McGarrett smirked and thrust harder, pushing him to the brink and then knocking him over as Williams reached between them, fingers working at McGarrett quick and sure. As he tightened around McGarrett, the mercenary came, back arching, head tilting back as he made that sound of release that Williams loved. A sound he tried so hard to contain, but in the end, he dragged it out him, made him groan.

McGarrett pulled out and settled in against him, arm draped possessively over him again. Williams stroked his fingers through his hair slowly, staring up at the ceiling. He almost didn’t catch McGarrett’s faint murmur before the mercenary drifted off.

_”Mine.”_


	6. Chapter 6

Williams settled back in his chair, waiting for some confirmation from Agent McGarrett that she’d heard enough. Instead, she remained silent as if expecting him to continue. He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, patience thoroughly tested. He flicked a hand out, knocking the small cup towards her in indication that he wanted more water. She watched it roll around, then looked back to him. 

“Look,” he stated finally, holding up his hands as much as the chain would allow, “I’m done telling you this story. Sure, I have several more dirty little scenarios I could tell you about but have a little dignity, agent. That’s your son we’re talking about.” He’d caught the stony expression as he graphically described their liaisons, finding it a little bit of payback for being forced to tell the story at all. Neither situation had been their hottest but they were the ones that correlated to defining moments in their relationship, so he made do with what he had. 

“It doesn’t matter if I detail every moment we’ve been together of the last six years for you, Doris. Can I call you Doris? We’ve been chatting so long that I feel we’ve grown closer - “

“No.” Doris’s response was flat as she leaned back, arms crossing over her chest. 

“All right then. Agent McGarrett. My point is that you will never win back your son. Trust me, I know a few things about caustic parent-child relationships, on both ends, and McGarrett doesn’t want anything to do with you. Nothing I tell you will get you what you want, which is...” He trailed off, eyes narrowing. “What? Why would you work so hard to try and find a way to reconnect with your son?” He clasped his hands together in front of his mouth, eyeing her thoughtfully. “Do you really think you can bring him back into the fold?” He watched her for any indication that he was right. “Find an excuse for the actions that sent him into the criminal underworld, turn him into a weapon you can use?” 

Agent McGarrett laid her clasped hands on the table and leaned forward. “Mr. Williams, I would recommend you stop trying to theorize. You are not a profiler, a detective, or anyone who knows a damn about people.” 

Williams held up a finger and then leaned forward himself, mirroring her pose. “I know people, Agent McGarrett, and what I know about your son is he is nothing like you. I told you that I could continue talking and you would learn nothing, remember? Do you know why that is? It’s because the details don’t matter, it’s the people that do. Your son and I, when we met?” He snapped his fingers. “Like that. Then the longer we worked together, the more we became like this.” He threaded his fingers together and pulled as if they were unbreakable. “We’re monsters, babe, him and I. There’s nothing you can do to change that.” 

The fire that sparked in her eyes was satisfying and Williams wanted to say more, stoke it to an unholy raging inferno, but before he could, a knock came at the door. Agent McGarrett shot him a look and climbed up from her seat, leaving the water pitcher in reaching distance. He snatched it up and bypassed the glass entirely, taking a long swallow directly from the pitcher. 

“Agent Rollins, unless you have something important to tell me, this isn’t the...time.” Agent McGarrett’s voice trailed off and Williams lowered the pitcher in curiosity, watching as a pretty brunette stepped into the room - and then McGarrett. Smug satisfaction quickly replaced the faint look of surprise and he dropped the pitcher on the table, water splashing on the table. McGarrett prodded Catherine into the room, semi-automatic weapon placed carefully between her shoulder blades. A tightening of the finger and there wouldn’t be another heartbeat. 

“Aren’t you a beautiful sight for sore eyes,” Williams said, holding up his hands and jerking at the handcuffs. “Your mother jacked me up with truth serum and then made me tell her how we became best pals. I just narrated smut to your mother, McGarrett. I need a Hail Mary and my mouth washed out with soap after that.” 

McGarrett shot him a dry look. “I’m surprised you haven’t burst into flames when you step into a church,” he replied. Williams innocently shrugged and grinned. “Hey mom, how about you let my buddy go and then we’ll take Agent Rollins here and get out of your hair?”

“Steven,” Agent McGarrett said softly, holding up her hands, “you have to stop this madness. This isn’t what you want to do. I’ve talked to the Navy and they’ve reconsidered their stance after reviewing events - “

“I’m not going back to the Navy,” McGarrett stated coldly, glaring at her. “You want a child to control, you have your perfect little Mary. Me? I’ve got my life to live my way and I’m doing just fine.” He indicated her with his free hand. “Give Agent Rollins the keys.” 

“Steven - “

“Doris. Do as I say.” The use of her name with the chilling edge in his tone made her slowly withdraw the handcuff key from her pocket and place it in Catherine’s outstretched hand. McGarrett maneuvered her over to Williams and she quickly uncuffed him. The moment he had full range back, McGarrett pulled a handgun from his waistband and held it out to him. 

“I hope you have a plan other than us Bonnie and Clyde-ing it out of here because historically speaking, it did not end well for them,” Williams mumbled to him as he checked the clip and then slammed it back into place. 

“You don’t need to ask, do you? I’ve partially cleared the way already and Agent Rollins here should make sure we get the rest of the way out.” McGarrett eyed his mother. “I hope you remember that any ideas you might get means that you’ll be putting a bullet in Agent Rollins’ heart yourself.” He tilted his head towards the door and Williams proceeded him out while McGarrett backed out, hand resting steadily on Catherine’s shoulder. Once clear of the doorway, he slammed the door shut. 

Williams stared at the bloodshed down the hallway. “I hope no one wants their security deposit back. The walls are ruined and that,” he said, pointing up, “is definitely not coming out.” Turning around, he started shaking his finger. “Okay, how are we getting out of - what is she doing free?” he demanded as Catherine marched past him, hands in tight fists and swinging at her sides. 

“Just shut up and follow me,” she commanded, not even breaking stride to look his way. McGarrett followed after her at an easy lope, eyebrows waggling at Williams as he passed while the other man stood there, hands out, still trying to make sense of exactly what the mercenary had planned. 

“You know what? This time, I’m just going to shut up and follow,” he muttered, pivoting on his heel and stomping after them.

\------------

“We’re even for Beirut now,” Catherine stated as they stood on the side of the road. Her arms crossed defiantly over her chest, wind blowing her dark hair across her face. She looked furious and if Williams had any small degree of empathy, he would have felt bad for her. Maybe. 

McGarrett shrugged, checking the handgun he’d taken back from Williams. He emptied all but the round in the chamber, slamming the clip back in. “We’re even for Beirut now,” he echoed, holding the gun out to her. Immediately, she snatched it from his grip and turned it on him, the gun pointed to his forehead. McGarrett didn’t blink, didn’t move, just smiled serenely down at her as Williams stepped up, a snarl on his lips. 

Holding up his hand, McGarrett continued to stare Catherine down. “You have one bullet to make it home with and it is not friendly territory out here, Cath,” he said softly, eyebrows raising. “You can put a bullet between my eyes, strike me dead, but that means you used your one round and him?” He thumbed at Williams. “He’ll kill you. He may look small but you should see him when he’s pissed.” 

Williams didn’t ease down, still tense, prepared to leap into Catherine the moment she dropped her guard. Almost as if he could tell what he was thinking, McGarrett’s hand rose up to rest against his stomach. “No,” he said gently, “she’s smart. She’ll do the right thing.” 

Catherine’s jaw tightened and reluctantly, she lowered the gun and stepped away. “I will do the right thing because the next time I see you, I’ll be slapping the handcuffs on you. Regardless of what your mother wants, Steve, the only way this will end is with you miserable and behind bars. Because we’re even now.” 

“We’re even now,” McGarrett repeated, giving her a cheeky smile. “I can’t wait for the chase, Agent Rollins. Hopefully I won’t be seeing you anytime soon though.” He slipped an arm around Williams’ waist, pulling him in close. “I need a few days of recuperation.” 

Williams didn’t even have a sarcastic response for that. Despite the details he’d calmly related earlier to Agent McGarrett, sex was the last thing on his mind. A good time was the last thing. Now that his escape was a thing of the past, his mind circled back to the one thing he’d avoided thinking about the entire time the cuffs were on his wrists - the family he worked so hard to bring up the ranks, to make a name for, would be nothing in a matter of days. It was enough to make him feel nauseous. 

“A few days of recuperation won’t be enough for the running you’re about to do because I will never stop until I have you,” Catherine promised softly, then in an act of defiance, she turned her back to them and started down the road, gun in hand. 

McGarrett tilted his head as he watched her. “You know, in another life...”

Williams elbowed him in the gut hard. “The only booty call I ever want to hear is you calling me to your booty,” he growled, then extricated himself from McGarrett’s grip and turned to walk in the opposite direction of Catherine. “Let’s go so I can find a way to get miserably stinking drunk.”

McGarrett fell in step beside him a moment later. “We just escaped. For a moment, can you not act like the world is ending?”

Spinning on him, Williams’ finger jabbed sharply into McGarrett’s chest. “Not act like the world is ending? My world _is_ ending, you neanderthal! They have everything they need to destroy everything I have worked for, what I have sweated blood for!” he snarled, continuing to jab him in the chest. “My life, as I know it, was ruined by a two bit detective who I can’t even put my hands around the neck of and watch the life leave his eyes as I strangle him.” His voice rose in volume as he held up both hands and shook them, mimicking strangling someone. 

“That would be a strange form of narcissistic homicide,” McGarrett said, earning a finger in his face.

“Do. Not. _Do not_ try to be humorous right now. _Everything_ I worked for is gone and I do not need you cracking jokes at me like it’s just another day in the life of McG-” He yelped as McGarrett suddenly hooked his foot behind his, putting him on the ground. The mercenary was on him a moment later, sitting on his hips while he pinned his wrists down. 

“I give you a lot of flexibility, Williams, but you do not get to take this out on me.” 

“ _You should have known it wasn’t me!_ ” The words were out before he could stop them, chest heaving as he stared up at McGarrett angrily. “Everything we’ve been through and you can’t tell me from someone sworn to uphold the law and protect the innocent?” 

“You’re blaming me for this?” McGarrett asked softly. “Think very carefully on your next words, D. Very carefully.” 

Williams dropped his head back to the dirt, closing his eyes. “I blame me,” he said finally. “I blame me and for once, I don’t know how to fix this. I really don’t.” 

“You don’t fix it. You get revenge,” McGarrett replied simply. 

“Because that’s so simple.” Williams snorted. “Did you hit your head at some point, miss the part where fucking _magic_ is involved? I know that is not one of your skill sets and it is certainly not one of mine. So tell me, how do we get revenge? Because I will not get my hopes up about something I dearly want if there’s no chance of me getting it.” 

McGarrett’s lips curved into a slow smirk. “We go to Hawaii. Chin’s a man with a lot of connections. It’s a place to start.” 

Williams wanted to continue raging at him, but the way he looked down at him now, the man was making it impossible to yell. He sighed and relaxed under him. McGarrett climbed up off him and held out his hand, hauling Williams up when he took it and right into his arms. Their lips met and they stood there, dirty, bloody, angry and broken on a back road in the middle of nowhere. 

_No, I still have him,_ Williams reminded himself as he drew away and turned to start walking again, shoving his hands into his pockets. McGarrett threw his arm around his shoulders as they walk.

“So while we hike our way to the nearest truck stop, why don’t you tell me every little thing you plan on doing to that detective one you get your hands on him?”


	7. Chapter 7

Williams only grew angrier with each passing day as they made the slow trek across the country towards a friend that could get them to Hawaii. It didn’t help that he looked like a trucker wannabe, jeans that were too big, flannel shirt that was too old, and an old baseball cap that smelled of grease covering his blond hair. McGarrett found it highly amusing, going as far as to tell him he looked like a child trying to dress up like dad. 

The resulting fight left both of them with a black eye and the motel room destroyed when it turned into a round of hate sex so vicious, he still had lingering bite marks on his shoulder. Unfortunately, it did nothing to help his mood.

Phones lifted from people gave him the ability to search the internet, pull up news from home. They were dismantling his family down to the bare bones, everything he’d worked for, every contact he had, arrested, shut down. The only reassurance was that Rachel and Grace seemed to be in the wind and they’d yet to find a link to Hawaii, at least that they’d announced. The police, the FBI, they were having a grand time telling the people how they’d taken the family down, removed one of the biggest crime organizations to blot the East Coast. 

Williams left a trail of busted phones behind him instead of returning them to their owners. Frankly, he did not give a shit about their contracts and what they might have lost. They didn’t lose what he had this week, oh no. His whole goddamn identity was flushed down the toilet and he’d been reduced in the news to ‘psychopath’ and ‘sociopath’, which was every single media outlet right there. An inability to tell the difference between the two words, of which he was neither. 

His identity though. It was gone, wiped out. He was nothing except a fugitive who law enforcement would parade around once caught to show off their skills, which was wrong anyway, considering the information had been handed to them, and then shoved in a prison to rot. That would be it, the end of Danny Williams, who so carefully played the part of dutiful son until his father almost destroyed the family. Then he returned it to the full glory it once had and better. 

McGarrett’s contact turned out to be delivering goods (Williams didn’t give a damn what) to the island of O’ahu, so a favor was traded in and the two of them found uncomfortable accommodations on the ship among the cargo. McGarrett tried to coax him into a few rounds of sparring or sex, maybe a combination of both, but Williams blatantly ignored him and barely left the uncomfortable bed he made up of sacks and blankets, staring bleakly at the wall. Until the anger got the better of him. 

McGarrett practically had to sit on him - certainly not in the way he’d wanted to - once Williams’ switch flipped and he went into a destructive zone. Arms wrapped around him like steel cords, McGarrett murmured softly in his ear, whispering pretty things about vengeance and blood and violence. Things that were all well and good in a normal situation, but this wasn’t a normal situation. This situation involved magic and neither of them knew shit about it. For all they knew, there would be no possible way for Williams to achieve what he wanted to. 

He wanted Steve McGarrett, reservist Navy SEAL, and Danny Williams, detective, to suffer unlike anyone suffered at his hands like no one else. Even his father went quick in the name of a smooth operation. This time, he didn’t care about himself or what would happen, as long as those two suffered in such emotional, mental, physical ways. Maybe the rest of that team though, lovely little Kono, calm, responsible Chin, wise cracking, emotional Lou. All of them. The angry swearing gave way to laughter that even made McGarrett freeze up behind him. 

By the time they got to Hawaii, visions of mayhem in his head, a bounce returned to his stride and a swagger to his hips. They traded in their stolen clothing for something more tourist appropriate and blended in with the crowds once leaving the docks. It didn’t take long for McGarrett to get in touch with Kelly, who sent a smart, ambitious young man named Charlie Fong to pick them up. Williams was impressed; the kid was careful, knew his stuff, and didn’t have an overbearing ego. He was one Kelly would do well to promote. 

The house - the so called “safe” house that Kelly promised, ended up being more impressive than anything law enforcement could scrape together. Kelly met them there, relaxing out on the lanai and looking out to the ocean when they stepped out the sliding door. He motioned for them to sit and then had meals delivered. Williams didn’t wait for permission, grabbing the fork and tucking into a fare that turned out to be downright succulent. Shrimp, rice, a lot of butter, and just the right kind of rich and savory he needed to drown his feelings in. God, he hated his feelings so much. 

“It was unfortunate to hear about what happened with your family. McGarrett got in touch with me after you escaped, told me what happened.” Kelly paused thoughtfully. “You didn’t quite seem yourself when we visited.” 

“Because I wasn’t,” Williams muttered around a mouthful of food. Reluctantly, he dropped the fork and wiped his mouth, sitting back. “You have to be thinking this is absolute bullshit but I don’t have a reasonable explanation otherwise. _I_ would not sabotage something I worked for like this, especially not with our deal in the works.” His fist tightened and he pounded it on the table, making McGarrett frown and glare at him. 

“There are more things in heaven and hell than the human mind can comprehend, Williams,” Kelly replied patiently. “It’s not something that I was aware of before, but looking into it, there is evidence that such a thing exists. The matter is it working now.” 

Williams held up a finger. “No, I don’t need this swapping back and forth. I need to go _there_. I need to destroy their lives as completely as they’ve destroyed mine.” 

“And I go with him,” McGarrett said, wiping his mouth on a napkin as he finally spoke. “Where he goes, so do I.” 

Kelly looked silently at both of them before nodding slowly. “All right. I’ll continue to have my person look into it, see what they can find. Until then, you can repay my assistance by working for me.” Williams brow furrowed. “Despite this incident, something beyond your control, you have shown yourself to be an excellent businessman, Mr. Williams. I can’t give you the control you’re used to, but I can give you responsibility and a high ranking position within my ranks because I have seen what you can do and I need that kind of hard work, loyalty, within. I also have a traitor.”

That caught the attention of both Williams and McGarrett and they exchanged a look. “While my person looks into your matter, I want you to look into mine. I want you to flush them out and I want you to take care of it.” 

It was McGarrett who responded, lightly rubbing his hands together. “You know I’m good for it, man. Just give me what you have so far and I’ll make sure the leak is plugged tight.” 

Kelly smiled slowly and nodded to McGarrett. “I would appreciate it.” He tilted his head back, waving to the house. “Until then, you have complete run of this house. You’ll have to do for yourself for now, as I doubt bringing someone in to take care of you would help you lay low. Food has been stocked, bedrooms prepared.” 

“I think one will suffice,” McGarrett said, shooting Williams a look. Williams waved a hand in the air and went back to eating. Kelly didn’t even hesitate. 

“There are two at your command regardless. If you need anything else, you have my number.” He rose to his feet, sliding on his sunglasses. “That being said, welcome to Hawaii.”

“Mahalo,” McGarrett replied, reaching out to shake hands with him.

Once Kelly left and the two of them were alone again, McGarrett settled a hand on Williams’ chair as Williams studied the pastry that took up the plate in the middle of the table. “So how are you feeling on this?”

“I won’t know until I take a bite,” Williams muttered, turning it over in his hands. “What’d you call it? A malasada?” 

“I meant about the deal we were offered.”

“Oh. Kelly’s good for it and I could use stomping on a disloyal little worm. I say we take it, regardless of what he turns up on the other matter.” He made a face. “He better turn up something on that matter. This bloodlust isn’t going to go away on its own.” 

McGarrett rolled his eyes. “I know. I haven’t fucked it out of you yet and we’ve had some damn good sex.” 

“Oh my god.”

“When did you become so-”

“This is better than fucking sex. No, no, it’s sex in my mouth. Oh fuck me, this is good,” Williams moaned, tilting his head back as he chewed. McGarrett frowned and grabbed the malasada out of his hand. Williams’ chair tilted a moment later and he toppled out onto the grass, McGarrett settling on him a moment later, pinning his hands down.

“No, this is going to be good,” McGarrett growled, leaning down to kiss him hard. 

\---------

It took a week for them to finally pin down the traitor. A lower ranked bagman turned out to be feeding information to HPD in exchange for leniency. Fortunately, at a lower position, he didn’t know enough to bring the organization crashing down, but enough to put pressure on Kelly. Williams organized a little fun for McGarrett, sending the man on a mission that put him right into the mercenary’s hands in a little game of cat and mouse. 

“Don’t make him disappear yet,” Kelly commanded when McGarrett called him. He exchanged a look with Williams and the man started to babble an apology and excuses, which Williams cut off with a sharp cuff to the head. “I trust your methods but we’re going to need him.”

“Reverse plant?” Williams asked, trying to guess what angle Kelly was coming from. 

“No,” Kelly replied and they heard the shuffling of papers and a ‘no, this is good’ to someone there in the office. “No, it looks like we’re going to need a sacrifice to make this work.” 

Williams went absolutely still and snatched the phone from McGarrett’s hand. “Make what work?” he demanded. “Talk to me.”

“A full bodied trip to the other side,” Kelly stated, as if it were obvious. “We’re going to need another for McGarrett to accompany you, of course, but according to this, it’s a start. Please bring him back and we’ll find a place to put him up until the set up is complete.” The phone line went dead and Williams turned to face McGarrett again.

For the first time that week, the spark was back in his eyes and with a whoop, he threw himself at the mercenary. McGarrett struggled to keep a hold on the other man while hugging Williams tightly. “It’s happening, babe. It’s _fucking happening._ ” He pulled away, running his hands through his hair. “We’re going to make them pay for what they did to us. McGarrett, it’s going to be a beautiful thing.” He closed his eyes, humming. “I can taste the blood right now. The chaos.” 

“...there’s something wrong with you,” the man in McGarrett’s grip squeaked, trying to make himself smaller. 

“Nah, there’s nothing wrong with him,” McGarrett replied, giving the man a hard shake. He turned a fond look to Williams. “You better start putting all those plans together, Williams.” 

Williams grinned. “Believe me, it will be a plan the likes of which they will never see coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible at these notes but heeeey, another part concludes and Williams and McGarrett are on the loose with revenge on their minds.
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)


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